Eight of Swords
by Kitty-Kat bebe
Summary: It was supposed to be a recon...but then they landed.
1. Chapter 1

Well…Here goes nothing : ) I DO NOT OWN WORLD WAR Z!

_**Eight of Swords **_

**The eight of swords in the tarot deck is an interesting card—showing a woman bound, blindfolded and in the center of a cage of eight swords. She frowns, unsure. Trapped. Though, it is a situation she could escape if she is determined. The binds are flimsy, as are the bars of the cage…**

**When the card is reversed, it means she can escape, or that she has escaped from binds of her past—metaphorical or physical. **

Chapter 1:

Water was like glass—cold, still, reflecting back the gaunt face of a young woman. Segen hardly recognized herself, skin stretched thin, lips pale from pressing them together for so long, jaw line vibrating from the chatters in her teeth.

This wasn't what she was used to—quite a change from the hot sun and warm, dry desert air. Segen wasn't sure how she liked this glassy water with little ripples, the smell on the air which she couldn't describe as anything but 'cold', the trees, thick with needles, huddled together beyond the rocky beaches.

She inhaled, exhaled, inhaled again. Gerry's family remained in his arms, Segen's injured arm remained nervously tucked to her chest. Other hand in her lap, fingers aching from the cold wind gusting across the water. Someone offered his hand to Segen, she took the assistance despite her pride, letting him pull her up. With her left arm strapped to her chest, aching with phantom pain, it proved challenging to find her balance while the boat rocked against the dock. Backpack over her good shoulder, Segen closed her eyes to fight down the dizziness from the sudden standing. She accredited the episode to her body adjusting to the stillness of earth beneath her feet, paired with recovery from whatever the WHO doctors injected her with.

Segen forgot what it was, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that she was a soldier without an arm, useless, a liability. She was right handed, but an amputated arm was a huge deal. Especially amputated in the way hers was. If they still had the luxury of hospitals, she'd need surgery to have the bone ground down, her blood vessels cauterized, and skin grafts. Segen was almost happy she was recovering the old fashioned way. That was what she decided after racking her brain for the positives—

No meds, no down time, no drugged stupors. Only some over the counter medicine the WHO woman had in her desk. She'd been kind enough to pour some of the pills into a plastic baggie and tuck them into Segen's front pocket before she left, "Take care", she'd said.

Segen hadn't replied.

"Karin, this is Segen." Garry said, Segen's head snapped up at her name. A few minutes of awkward introduction—talking to people who she knew really didn't want to talk to her. Segen was tried and had enough. A part of her felt bad—Gerry's kids spoke quickly and quietly, her English wasn't good enough to understand what they were trying to ask her.

Perhaps it was good enough, but she was tired and it was always hard for her to reply. She hadn't spoken much English aloud until the outbreak struck and she'd associated with speakers of the language in Jerusalem. Segen never had been good with pronunciation or differentiating the tenses. She exhaled. Listening was better than talking most of the time as it was.

She was quiet by nature. A woman of action rather than words.

Nonetheless, Gerry saw to getting her a bed for the night in one of the refugee tents, "Thanks." Segen nodded to him as he showed her to her assigned bunk among other soldiers.

"It's the least I could do." Gerry stated, looking content, "Go see the medic in the morning. That's an order."

Segen didn't sleep much, tossed and turned, her arm hurt. Burned. Shoulder cramped from her hesitation to move it. She flopped her head back, pulled off her sling and extended her arm with great caution. Thankfully, the darkness obscured the full view of her stump of a limb. Back and forth, using her right hand to support the weight of her elbow, trying not to wonder what she was going to do now. What were they to do with her now?

In the morning, the doctor came to see her, "We have a medical tent." He said, walking into the tent as she struggled to make her bed one-handed. Apparently he'd been rather interested in seeing how she was doing so well after a dark-ages style procedure, "Come on by. Let's get that looked at."

He asked her if she wanted morphine pills. Segen declined the offer, she still had a bag of Motrin. Motrin didn't make her feel sedated. Not that Segen was exactly sure what morphine would do, but she did know it quieted people down when it was injected. Antibiotics and Motrin. She was fine with that combination.

Then to the common area where Segen got in line last for breakfast as not to bother anyone, interchangeably sliding her plate along the table and reaching for the serving spoon. A cup of black coffee balanced carefully on the dish as she moved across the open space.

"You doing alright?" Gerry asked her at breakfast, insisting that she joined them at the table they'd reserved.

She nodded, forcing her lips to smile at him, "Yes. Fine." Eyes returned to her plate—a glob of oatmeal. She wasn't hungry, just thirsty. Mouth unbearably dry. Segen had drained two bottles of water over night—she accredited it to her injury which still bled lightly. Her body needed the fluids. Cold, tasteless substance dutifully stuffed into her dry mouth, sliding down her throat in lumps.

"Thierry wants you to leave again?" Karin asked, her eyes red-rimmed with deep bags. Segen looked up, noticing the girls and Tommy were several feet away in the field, playing a game which involved tossing a stuffed animal between each other while Connie in the middle jumped up trying to catch it. She turned back to Gerry.

"Just a recon—"

"You just got home!" Karin cried, "He expects to take you again! He girls need you here, Gerry, I need you."

Segen glanced back at her plate, wondering what it would be like to have someone who cared about her as much as Karin and Gerry seemed to be concerned for each other, "What sort of mission?" Segen asked, wondering if she'd be of any use. Staying here was going to drive her mad—she knew that for a fact. The cold, and monotony, and the pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't. Watching children play after their home was long gone. Segen couldn't deal with that. Pretending wasn't alright after what she'd been through. Maybe it was okay for them, but not for her.

Not when she spend every moment with what was left of her left arm rested against her chest, struggled with every tasks because of injuries inflicted by the undead. Segen hated them. No matter how unfair it was to hate zombies, people once, now with no control, she still hated them.

"Just an aerial recon of some cities on the east coast of America." Gerry explained, one eye on Karin, "No landing, just looking at their spread. How they clump once stimulus is gone."

"I thought people were fighting back." Karin stated.

"In Russia they are. Hundreds of civilians are back in America, too." Gerry continued, "Stranded. We're lucky to be here, if I have to go, I have to go." Karin should have known that as well as anyone—fortunate enough to have both her children and husband alive, "People are forming gangs to survive out there. No landing." Gerry emphasized.

"I could go." Segen stated. Karin looked at Gerry, not wanting to say what Segen knew she was thinking. _Send her, send the girl with one arm and stay home, _"Stay with your family." She spoke slowly.

"Segen—"

Though, from the look in Karin's eyes, Segen knew it was final.

A newly packed backpack and a digital camera around her neck, Segen was on a helicopter that night, slated to arrive in New York City by first light. The pilot boasted about the new bird—about how it was so fuel efficient it could fly longer and further without stopping than anything in the United States military, "Impressive, huh, small fry?" Someone nudged her.

"Sure." She ignored him after that, leaning her head back and trying not to nod off. She was anxious, there was no denying that, but the pistol tucked beneath her arm loaned Segen confidence. _No landing. _She remembered.

They circled New York city, several times dipping low where zombies swarmed around the noise of the helicopter. With one hand she snapped pictures, heart thumping with sudden adrenaline, "Any live ones?"

"If there are, they sure as hell aren't on the streets." She looked at the iconic things she'd only seen in pictures—the statue of liberty, empire state building, sky rises, times square. All gone from its glory—lights dark and streets filled with creatures which were no longer human.

"They're saying the zombies are ending up in the oceans." Someone stated, a chill went up Segen's spine.

"Alright, we're calling this a day." The pilot said, his voice muffled against the roar of the blades above their heads zombies piled and clawed at each other, forming pyramids of flailing bodies below their feet.

She slowly released her grip on the camera, looking out the window at the lush foliage and waiting for their next checkpoint. Trenton, she believed they said.

Segen checked her watch, she didn't know anything about the topography and distance between the cities to even consider estimating, "How far?" She called out over the noise, wondering why she could no longer see the coast. Perhaps he preferred flying inland.

"Alright guys, plans have changed." The captain stated, "We're flying upstate to do a ground recon of a small town. There may be civilians cooped up there."

_What? _

"Who's orders!?" Someone else shouted, Henner, she believed they called him. Segen was thankful she wasn't the only one upset by such a development.

"Executive order."

"The president's dead!"

"Apparently a new one's been elected. Official channel. Thierry confirmed. We're heading upstate, we have plenty of ammo and fuel to do a recon and get back. By dark, I'm not staying. We stay close, move fast and quiet. Anything happens, we get back on the bird!"

Segen breathed out—at least the copilot was smart. He was their team leader. She could deal with it as long as they weren't stuck in the dark. Segen returned to her staring out the window.

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Thanks so much for reading! Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews and follows!

Chapter 2:

_Segen_

Helicopter blades sent the tall grass and foliage into a whirlwind of movement; Segen bit her lip, waiting for something to appear. With the noise, she figured, it was merely a matter of time before zekes made their way over in the hunt for fresh meat.

Of all the things this new bird apparently was, quiet failed to make the list. She squeezed her lips together tighter, the men behind her laughed about something but she couldn't hear. Nervous eyes focused on the trees. Thickness like she'd never seen before—woody and still mostly green, some leaves turning the color of flames as fall set in. An exhale, a bump as skids hit earth, then the slowing of the blades. Gentle fading noise the engine made as the power cut and it ran on its own momentum, rotations slow yet powerful. Far outside of town as not to wake the dead.

"Alright, kids." The co-pilot untangled himself from his harness, "Time for some reindeer games. Not game hunting—you see a zeke, you don't engage unless it engages. Anyone get trigger happy and manage to survive I vote you off the island. You hear?" He clapped his hands. Segen stood straight, her chin up, shoulders rolled back.

_"Sir!" _Her voice lost in the chorus unison shouts.

"In and out. Fast and quiet. You see anything, you point it out, you hear me?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Filed out, Segen held her pistol, muzzle pointed down as she was trained. Soldier mode—eyes sharp, taking the three o'clock position. They trekked in silence, leaving their pilot with an assault rifle and radio. Segen wondered if she should have taken her antibiotics with her. With the possibility of people 'ganging-up', as Gerry called it, she'd left the bottled tucked beneath the seat in a velvet bag she'd found at the camp.

Aching arm reminded her she missed a dose.

_When you get back. Can't deal with it now. _Segen looked at the world around her, smelled the wetness as it hung in the air. The peculiar scent damp leaves and grass had—like mold, must, something like that. Where she was from those things were rare.

Tall, wet grasses wrapped around her ankles as if the foliage threatened to snare her. Then, into the forest. Woody trees, standing like scrawny soldiers. Something shuffled several feet from her. Segen jumped, aiming her gun in that direction, "At ease." Vare, their leader, ordered her, "Just deer."

Then she felt stupid. _See? You know neither the animals nor the land. _She was used to human ambushes, open roads where noticing where the dirt dug out of the side of the cement was a life or death realization. Here, feet crunching on leaf litter, vines and shrubbery obscuring the ground—this might as well have been alien. Air bitterly cold in her lungs, irritating her throat. Birds chattered, a squirrel pulled itself up the trunk of a tree, rodents scurried in the undergrowth. Life went on. Maybe not for humans but for other things.

Segen exhaled and relaxed, they moved along. _I hope these survivors haven't become feral…Gerry implied that was pretty likely…_Through the woods where they reached the back of a neighborhood. Small houses and a gravel road several meters away. No zekes as far as she could tell, just the abandoned children's play set, rusted chains squeaking as the breeze nudged the swings.

She sensed something, but by the time she did it was too late.

They flew like bats out of hell, out of the woods on their flanks and from around the fronts of the houses. A flurry of hoof beats, just like in old westerns. Segen's group of soldiers clumped tight, "Hold your fire!"

"HANDS IN THE DAMN AIR!" Someone, not from Segen's group, shouted. Men on horses. Correction—men and women on horses. They circled like hungry sharks, yanking skittish animals in tight, corralling looks around the group. Like they were herding cattle, Segen realized, sickly. It seemed like they'd done this before. She set her pistol down against her better judgment.

They'd walked straight into an ambush. Whoever these people were—they obviously knew this land a lot better than Vare and the others did. Experience or not, it didn't matter anymore. They were all in this together.

Segen went to her knees while holding her hand up, following the lead of Vare; making a point to push out her bad arm so they could see she was in a sling, not reaching for a concealed weapon. They slowed their horses, turning the creatures to face the group. At least fifteen, then twenty, as more came. Wide-eyed, dirty, rifles and pistols clutched in their hands—fingers frighteningly close to the triggers. _Give them what they want. _Self-preservation. These people were nuts.

A thickly-built chestnut horse ridden to the front by the leader, the cavalry backed themselves off to allow him to safely walk his mare before the captives. The mare snorted as if she were uneasy, the man looked much less impressed, "Who are you?" He asked, a greasy salt and pepper beard, thick leather gloves on his hands, shoulders squared as the mare trotted back and forth, riding off her own nerves and feeding those of the fidgeting animals around her.

Horses were such a good idea—in a brainstorming session with Gerry on the way to Nova Scotia the best idea they'd come up with for quiet, fast transport across afflicted areas were electric scooters. They'd never even considered horses.

Not that they had any access to such animals anyway. Perhaps that was why they'd never gotten to it, "U.S. army!" Vare replied, "We're just here to talk."

The statement caused whoops and snide laughs to come the group, "Feel safer already." The man on the chestnut mare held out his hand, causing the troops to go silent. A woman rode up beside him, a bullhorn in her hands, "This is my friend…We call her 'Rah'." He stated. Segen realized it was an electric bullhorn. She remembered the static of the microphone in Jerusalem, the zombies which hauled themselves over the wall—something which seemed impossible until it happened.

She held down the bullhorn beside the shoulder of her horse, "'ello." She waved, smugly. Young, Segen's age. Her hair was dark and braided and rolled upon her head. Face splattered with dirt and gloves ripped through.

"Well, let me tell you, Rah's got a mean scream on her." Rah smirked, licking her lips and holding up the bullhorn and doing some odd rolling motion with her eyebrows. Segen wanted to have at her. One on one. Even with one arm she could make that little smug thing wish she'd made some dramatically different choices. Jaw clenched, "So let's keep it quiet. What we got? Four soldiers, one of them with an injury. Thought they'd send more." He made a clicking noise with his tongue, "Pity, that's unfortunate. Got anything useful?"

"I like guns—"

"Hey, hey." Vare stated, Segen sensed Henner who knelt at her back growing squirmy. It was good to keep moving in these situations—the physiology of letting captors see small motions desensitized the brain. That way, if they had to make a move to escape, it would take milliseconds longer for the captor's mind to react to pull a trigger.

But Henner was moving too much, too suddenly. Segen couldn't see the horsemen facing him, but she held her breath, hoping he would stop, sensing their nervousness as strongly as she sensed Henner's, "We have a cure. We have a way to stop infection—"

"A cure or more camouflage?" The leader asked, "Because funny story about that camouflage. Guess you guys haven't heard from Mexico? Russia? Haven't heard the transmissions from this morning?"

"Enlighten us." Vare growled.

"Doctor, this is your cup of tea." The man motioned for another of the riders to move forward. This man, by contrast, looked rather uncomfortable on his mount. Not the easy experience of horsemanship the others had. Even the horse looked miserable, eyes wide and rolled back. Ears pinned flat against tangled mane. His hands trembled and he held the reins nearly at his shoulders. Segen noticed Rah motioning at him to lower his clamped fists.

"Okay." He dropped the reins, Rah rode beside him, taking hold of his horse so he could explain using his hand motions, "Okay…So when you get a vaccine or when you're ill, you have an immune response. Immediately, even if you don't feel sick, your body starts to fight the pathogen. However, a few days beyond that exposure. Your immune response stops—"

"What doc here is trying to say is that the vaccines WHO put out aren't working anymore. They worked great at first, but unless you can find a way to have your body be constantly having an immune response, you're visible to the walkers. Less visible, but once those fuckers get taste 'a blood there's not much stopping them. They get in a feeding frenzy and they'll even eat each other. It's only the real sick people they pointedly avoid. You strong and healthy and in a bad place, camo or not, you're zombie chow."

"Unfortunately if you constantly have an immune response, your body will wear down. You eventually will get sick, especially if you don't have enough to eat." The doctor continued. Segen gritted her teeth—this was bad. As far as she understood this was bad. If zombies made their appearance, they were screwed.

"So…Now that your noble quest baring vaccines has been dampened…What do you have that is of use to us?" The man on the chestnut asked. Several people dismounted, "Guns and ammunition, all you have." He requested.

"Come on, you don't want to—" Vare was cut off by the crack of a pistol firing. Horses jumped and spun in unison, reacting to the noise. The doctor was unseated as his horse yanked from Rah's grip and she turned her struggles to her own mount.

Segen's heart went to her throat, though, she realized, it was Henner who had fired. The world seemed to move slowly, the man on a horse clutched his chest, looked out with wide eyes, as if he was deciding whether or not the shot was fatal—which it certainly was. Then, he coughed, blood on his lips, hand curling in the wet material of his shirt. His body slumped, the horse sidestepped as if she were trying to save her rider, but it was too late. He fell, landed heavily on the damp ground.

Those who were on the ground advanced on them, faraway snarls from zombies. At least Segen assumed they were zombies. Someone grabbing the stump of her arm made it difficult to think. She hissed in pain, struggled weakly as they took her gun. She saw them grab Vare, handcuff him. Segen felt water splash at her back. The gunfire and Rah's hellish screams into the bullhorn made it difficult for her to focus.

Not water—blood. Henner's body collapsed over her legs. Shot in the head. A grizzly mess of blood, bone, and tissue. Segen looked away, seeing unconscious Vare being thrown over a horse's back. She scrambled to her feet.

Though, it seemed that was ill advised as well. The zombies were charging now, one launching upon a horse's back after the rider. The animal reared up so high she rolled over on her back. More zombies, launching, snarling, attacking. Spilled blood and noise caused a feeding frenzy.

Segen remembered what the doctor, who'd fallen off his horse and was now being attacked, had stated. Nonetheless, she had no choice. She couldn't outrun them, they were surrounding her.

Horses ran all directions, some rider less, others bolting with riders partially on, Rah and the man in charge stood in their stirrups and galloped away. Segen threw herself to the ground, narrowly avoiding a stampeding gelding, hooves landing inches from her intact arm as he leapt over her. _No! _The man shot beside her, one of their own, holding his chest, struggled to breathe. She regretted not learning his name. He gasped and choked, blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Segen scrambled for him, cut off by a zombie which had once been the doctor leaping onto his chest and digging teeth into his shoulder.

She stifled a cry and scooted backwards—apparently their camouflage wasn't working anymore. Or maybe the bleeding had sent the zombie into a frenzy. If the camouflage wasn't working, why hadn't they attacked her? Different immune systems? She'd gotten injected with something before it was made into a vaccine…Was that why? But they'd said it was like a vaccine—dead, harmless, hadn't made her sick. Maybe the zekes preferred moving meals rather than still ones—like animals with hunting instinct, egged on by the movement.

Segen didn't know, she wondered for a split second if she was better lying flat in the chaos or trying to run. As the horses took off, forming some semblance of an organized herd with their retreat, she assumed she didn't have to worry about being trampled anymore. The others without riders spiraled off in different directions, eventually meandering back to moving the direction in which the cavalry had gone.

The man beside her was gone—a zombie now, running uselessly after the horses with a group of them. _Vare, captain? _They'd taken him. Henner and the man he'd shot were the only two fully dead on the ground. A zombie with the legs crushed, one of the riders, pulled himself uselessly across the turf.

_ So they still can't see me? Why? _Granted, she and Gerry hadn't done a terribly detailed test, and he'd been quite ill by the time he emerged from the WHO labs. She reached for the pistol under her arm out of habit and found it gone.

More zombies filing out of the neighborhood, running like rabid animals down the street, after the cavalry. Then, Segen realized glumly, they were heading the same direction they'd come. She couldn't outrun the horses. Perhaps they were just trying to shake the pack of zekes, and it was a coincidence, but the sound of the helicopter rotors would be a perfect diversion for the cavalry to slip away with their horses.

_Damn it to hell. _

Segen didn't have a choice. She had to go that way anyway. Time to call in the reinforcements, and the satellite phone and radio both were on the helicopter. She just wished she had a way to warn the pilot.

Thanks for reading! Please review! I should update soon, unless I have a heart attack while watching the Conjuring tonight : )


	3. Chapter 3

Well, I lived through The Conjuring. So here's another chapter. I hope you're having as fun reading this as I am writing it! Seriously, people, review!

: )

Thanks to the people who do review!

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_Chapter 3:_

_Gerry _

"Shouldn't they be back right now?" Gerry checked his watch, going on sixteen hours since the helicopter left, "How far did they go?" Old habits died hard—waiting for transmissions and arrival times to the minute, especially in situations like these, were things he never ceased to think of.

Thierry was a voice over the satellite phone, he'd slipped away from Karin and the girls to make the call. 'Technically' supposed to wait for Thierry to call on this line, but he sensed something was wrong. A mission was like a toddler—when things got too quiet there was cause for concern.

The length of Thierry's pause was the next indicator, _"We lost contact." _

"Lost contact? How long?"

_"About two hours. The last transmission was just after they flew over the Finger Lakes." _

"Two hours?" Gerry barked, "Two hours, there're five men out there along with a military helicopter and you're acting like—"

_"Gerry. With these circumstances we can't do much about it." _

He blinked, suddenly realizing what Thierry was telling him, "What in God's name were they doing over the finger lakes? Wasn't it a recon on the coast?"

_"Plans changed. We got a distress call inland. The crew was under orders to land." _

Gerry's heart skipped, "There were four soldiers! Four! They had pistols, they were not equipped for a ground—"

"_No one is equipped for ground! Do you know how limited our supplies are!? I'm sorry Gerry, they had to." _

Gerry understood—he didn't want to understand since Segen saintly took the place which should have been his, but he had to try. They didn't have the resources to fly out a second helicopter when there was already one nearby, "What's the contingency?"

_"Excuse me?" _

"Contingency plan? In case this went wrong?"

Another pause over the phone, "_Gerry…After forty-eight hours without contact we declare them M.I.A. We don't have the luxury of contingencies anymore!" _

His palms sweat, heart rattled, jaw clenched with anger. He knew what that meant. The same thing it meant for him a few days ago—when his family lost their beds on the boat and they moved to the lovely Nova Scotia refugee camp, "Dead." Gerry stated into the phone.

_"…M.I.A. until they find a way to make contact. If they can't make contact, then we know…" _

"Right." Gerry answered begrudgingly, because in all reality if they were alive they'd find a way to make contact before forty-eight hours were up. Unless there was a situation like his, where they were unconscious, which was unlikely, "You hear anything, you let me know."

_"Will do, take care. Remember—these are resourceful people." _He sensed Thierry was trying to get off the hook but wasn't ready to go, especially not with the new secretive transmissions.

"What is it I'm hearing about the vaccines?"

Thierry sighed_, "Not working as well as we thought. In Russia, the men fighting are getting bitten again. After the initial immune response to the pathogen stops, there's nothing to hide with anymore. Especially not if the infected get riled up and corner you." _

Another thing he didn't want to hear—the perfect solution he'd painted in his mind while leaving the WHO lab ripped beneath his feet. They were in danger again. Their mass vaccination efforts were in vain, "Where do we go from here?"

"_Scientists are trying to make a vaccine to the actual pathogen, that way the bites won't matter anymore…but it's proving difficult. Listen, Gerry, I got to go. Take care." _

The click of the call ending. Gerry puffed his cheeks out and jammed the antenna down into the phone. _Segen's a resourceful kid, she's fine. The rest are marines. They'll figure something out. _

Gerry returned to Karin, "What's going on? Where are they?" Even if he wanted to keep something from his wife, he couldn't. She'd always catch on. It was a way about her—she sensed when he was uneasy, more so than normal.

"They landed. Lost contact."

"Shit, Gerry. I thought they weren't supposed to do that." Karin replied, glancing sideways at the kids who sat at the adjacent table, playing something with a partial deck of cards they'd scrounged from somewhere. Connie made her way over, sitting beside Gerry.

"Is Segen coming back?" The parents exchanged glances, the silent decision of what to tell their kids about the situation at hand. Their style had always been honest, but now, in this world where everyone slept with one eye open, how much could they say without crossing the threshold into no sleeping whatsoever?

Gerry laughed; Connie always had an affinity for the female action heroes—dressed as Wonder Woman for Halloween the past two years. Segen was young and new and interesting, and a soldier. Connie was fascinated. "You hardly said two words to her, sweetheart. But yes, she's coming back."

"When?"

"Soon, later." Karin answered, and the girl seemed to take it as a good enough answer, returning to play with her sister and new brother, "She's a kid, Gerry…" It took him a moment to realize Karin was talking about Segen, "Does she have family somewhere?"

The man paused to think about it, "She never really said. I don't think so."

Karin looked aside, "Well…Hopefully she's alright. What is 'Segen' short for, anyway?"

Gerry shrugged again, he'd spent days with the young woman and knew almost nothing about her, "She's a good fighter. Resourceful, tougher than half the guys her age I've seen in the field. Good head on her, she'll be fine." He assured both Karin and himself.

In hindsight, Gerry wished he'd handed her a private satellite phone. He'd absconded with a pair of them when the latest supply shipment came in. But that was the past, when he hadn't thought much of this mission. Segen was gone and what was done was done. There was no changing it. Not now, at least.

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Thanks again to my readers! Review please! (sorry it's short. The next will be longer. I just don't like to switch P.O.V.s mid-chapter unless I have to).


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Segen_

She stood on trembling legs, blinking several times. The yard behind the house took up an eerie silence, periodic squeaking of the swings—same as it had been before the horsemen arrived. Surreally quiet air countering the harsh pounding of her heart and prickling of sweat down her back. Adrenaline making her heart beat in her ears.

Segen didn't look down because if she let her eyes move where they wanted to, they'd land on Henner's body or the blood spilled upon hoof-torn grass, "Okay." She muttered to herself, trying to think but feeling as though her head filled with white noise. Too many thoughts—Vare was kidnapped. The other two were dead. She was alone without a weapon and with one working arm.

She wasn't a quitter by any means, but Segen knew when she was in over her head. What was she supposed to do? Follow the hoof prints until she got to camp and then sit down to ask politely for Vare and her gun back?

_Who are you kidding? _She thought, finding something dryly funny about it. What was she to do? Shake her stump of a limb at them and scream. _Or maybe you could be like Rah. Get a bullhorn and scream like you're being killed. That ought to solve a lot. _

Teeth gritted, Segen started toward the cover of the trees. As she stepped from the manicured yard to the wily undergrowth, something to her right caught her peripherals. Distant shuffling of something large. _One of the horses. _She couldn't worry about it now, more than one of the beasts ran wild in these woods now. Hopefully they were doing better than she was. At least they had a home to find their way to. A safe place to go.

Segen closed one eye and held up her hand, measuring the distance between the setting sun and the horizon. Approximately an hour until sunset—one short width of her hand. She broke into a jog and put her head down, arms pumping, eyes down at the hazardous footing and prints in the soft soil. Nose full of cold air, ears aching, arm beginning to cramp from being bound to her chest.

She focused on the misery, embraced it, used it as an excuse to move faster until she finally emerged in the clearing when they'd landed. A rogue zombie wandered in a dormant-like state, apparently he lost the eating train. She noticed a few more wandering aimlessly at the other side of the clearing, but what was left of the helicopter stole her gaze.

Pilot gone.

_No, no, no. _Segen wanted to cry. The door ripped from its hinges. She hurried to it, and climbed on board. Seats torn out, foam taken. She dropped to her knees, feeling about frantically for the pill bottle.

It was gone. Up front, the trauma kit was taken, the control panel ripped apart to get at the radio, seatbelts and wiring cut off. Segen supposed they'd scavenge anything they could out here. She searched as thoroughly and quietly as her panic allowed. No satellite phone. No antibiotics. Nothing to use as a weapon. Picked clean like a carcass by vultures. Segen leaned her head back and inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself.

What she did know for a fact was the sun was going down and she couldn't afford to be out at night, especially since she didn't know this land. Light raindrops plopped on the metal frame of the helicopter, continuous, prying, and reminding of the direness of her situation.

The cavalry left her for dead. _Okay. You need shelter, away from here, away from the zombies. Before the rain gets too heavy. _Being soaked through on top of everything would do her worse, catching cold out here was the last thing she needed—

Or maybe it wasn't. If she was sick, the zombies didn't bite her. If she was healthy she was more likely to survive. A catch twenty-two.

Within minutes the decision was made for her—a freezing downpour and a half hour later she was back at the tiny houses. Fingers numb, teeth rattling in her mouth. Segen found a rake outside, the heavy, iron kind. Neither time nor patience for friendliness.

She adjusted the rake in her hand, exhaled, and swung into the doorknob. Segen looked around frantically but saw no sign of zombies. Another swing. Swing. Swing.

Finally the door was loose enough for her to push in, "Hello?" She called, timidly at first. Rake clenched in her fist, Segen investigated the double-wide, snagging a knife from the kitchen. A master bedroom at the end. Left untouched, closet door open. Dirty clothes strewn on the floor.

Boots crunched on glass which embedded in the carpet—the window above the bed had been completely broken and cleared of shards. _Someone's beat me here. _Towels hung in the bathroom, a clean stack of them in the linen cabinet. She took one and wrapped it around her shoulders, shivering.

A living room, mostly clean. She took time to look behind the couch, making sure no unwanted guests were lurking. The other bedroom was clean as well—once a little girl's room. Pink bedding and images of princesses from American cartoons pasted to the walls. Segen frowned, looking at the unmade bed and the toys on the floor. What had happened to this family? Had they evacuated? Been unable to evacuate? Joined the cavalry?

She dropped to her belly, checking to make sure no one hid beneath the frame of the bed. Then, poked through the closet. Nothing to be concerned with. More toys and children's clothes. Though, images of Gerry's two young daughters cropped up in her mind. How were they faring back in Nova Scotia? She assumed they were alright, they had Gerry, after all.

Back to the door where she used the rake to jamb against the broken knob. She wasn't sure if she was more concerned with zombies or the cavalry. Segen, shaking with cold, made the decision that she had to change.

It was getting dark and she still had a flashlight in her pack, she dumped the contents onto the living room floor, out of sight of the windows. A flashlight, a water bottle, a granola bar, a tiny first aid kit. Standard packing for a daytime excursion when there hadn't been plans to land or stay overnight for that matter. Two extra pistol clips which she'd brought just in case, but without a gun, they were useless.

Segen exhaled and re-packed her bag. She went to the master bedroom. A pair of jeans and a shirt dug out from the closet, she peeled her wet clothes off and draped them over the back of the desk chair. Sling removed from her neck. Bandages still dry, thankfully, as she didn't have the stomach to clean her own wound without anesthetic right now. Somehow inflicting it on herself and then trying to re-bandage with one hand sounded unbearable in her current mental state.

Into the kitchen, then, still freezing and wrapped in the damp towel. She took to searching through the cabinets, finding tape and newspaper which she fussed with for several minutes to create a sheath for the kitchen knife. All of the food was gone. Some sugar and flour, but nothing she could eat.

_You're in their territory. You're lucky you found a knife in this house with the way they pick everything clean. _Flashlight in her mouth, Segen crouched below the sink. _They have to pillage, they have to move fast. _

The key was to find what they missed; she shoveled the cleaning products out of the way with her forearm and found a case of matches. _Why not? _Segen put them in her pack. She turned up a sealed water bottle amidst the rotting food in the fridge, and slammed the door before she gagged. The young woman lay back on top of the quilt of the master bed, wrapped in the clean sheet she'd found.

She curled her body around her backpack and shut her eyes. A few hours later she woke, shivering. Feet crammed into damp boots, breath fast, somewhat dried clothes wadded and shoved into her backpack. Segen grabbed her newspaper wrapped knife, cursing herself for falling asleep.

There was noise outside, shuffling. She held her breath. The first grey of morning sun made its way over the horizon. She cursed herself again—she'd slept for a long time. Segen rubbed her eyes, took a gulp from her water bottle, and stepped out of the bedroom.

Going on eight hours on the ground and she'd accomplished absolutely nothing. Knife brandished, breaths slow and deep to keep herself calm. The rake remained wedged beneath the doorknob, the kitchen and living room just as she left them.

Exhale. Another sound of movement outside. _Better go see. _She was well aware that any survivors she encountered could do far worse than what the cavalry had, but she kept moving. Sitting in this house and rotting was not going to do anything for her either. Back against the siding, breath held.

Segen realized the shuffling was much too big to be human. _Horsemen. _Though, this horse didn't have a rider. A grey mare—and based on the way the saddle sat skewed on her back and the metal framing stuck from the crushed leather, this was the horse who flipped over on her back when her rider was attacked.

Reins tangled in the branches of a tree which was along the side of the house. The horse panicked for a moment, rearing and yanking uselessly with her head, breathing hard, shaking her body as if trying to get the saddle off. Legs splattered with mud and dried blood, white fur grass stained.

Segen stood and relaxed. Just a horse. But then if dawned on her that the cavalry needed horses. A horse was an asset. A horse for Vare and a call with the satellite phone. That was a fair trade. She didn't exactly have a weapon or a way to stop them from shooting her and taking the horse anyway, but it was something they wanted. A bargaining chip. A start. Maybe even protection, "Whoa…" She muttered in Hebrew to the anxious animal, knowing the hooves could easily land on top of her.

With one arm she struggled to unclasp the saddle and let it fall to the ground, though, the horse was still panicked about her reins being stuck in the branches, Segen leapt back to avoid a large body barreling on top of her. With a shaking hand, Segen struggled to free the leather, ended up unbuckling the loop in the middle.

The mare went to bolt the moment she was free, "Whoa…Whoa…" Horse dragged her forward, Segen let go out of self preservation, knowing it was a fight she couldn't win. The mare trotted off, stopping several feet away to bend down and pick at the grass.

She marched after the animal. _I just helped you, stupid. Come on. _This time Segen succeeded at grabbing her reins. Horse raised her head to look at the newcomer. Segen pressed her finger to her lips, "Shhhh." The horse blew out and chewed the bit in her mouth. The bridle irritated her skin from the struggles with the tree but Segen knew she couldn't take it off and still be able to control her. With a shaking hand she patted her nose, she'd never been around a real horse before. Distantly for gimmicks on the street when she was younger, but not close, not alone with a creature ten times her weight and power which could possibly decide to turn on her. A deep breath to calm herself as the horse's nose pressed against her belly, sniffing her.

A bone-shaped license attached to the bridle, Segen grimaced at the sense of humor. 'Gringa'. "Gringa." She said aloud, as if saying her name would make the horse like her better. Gringa blew out again, getting bored with Segen and returned to picking at the grass.

Segen took a moment to get comfortable with her newfound 'friend', touching Gringa's shoulder, fingers meeting the roughness of scabs and scars. The young woman looked closer at the dirty fur, circular, scabby marks.

Bite marks. Humans typically didn't bite horses unless they were zombies. And zombie bites meant more zombies, but this animal seemed inherently healthy. Maybe this was the freak of nature which they'd talked about at WHO…The one who had a natural immunity to the virus. _They can take blood from her to a lab and find antibodies. With antibodies we can get a vaccine. _

"You're coming with me."

A valuable animal indeed.

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Thanks so much for reading! : )


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry on the delay of this chapter, guys… I'm picking up a lot more hours at work so time's a little tight! ^^' Thanks for the reviews!

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Chapter 5:

_Segen_

Segen dragged Gringa along; clearly the horse wasn't concerned about going anywhere fast. Distant gunfire hung on the breeze, causing Gringa to startle each time it started. Though, the nervousness didn't last long. Instead, the animal opted to drag her feet and grunt as if she was very unhappy about her situation. _I know you're tired, just walk, come on. _Reins over her shoulder, Segen was sweating with the effort to keep the horse moving. She realized Gringa had probably gone a long while without sleeping—running around in her saddle all night, tangled in the trees.

Segen wondered why she hadn't gone home, and instead ended up tangled outside the house. Perhaps the gunfire had been going on all night and put off the horse.

She decided to take the long way around the clearing with the helicopter—Gringa didn't seem too happy with having to break through the brush, but Segen didn't care. They had no choice—the zombies could still be in the grass. Though, with the gunfire earlier, Segen doubted it. Even so, memory of them was enough for the woman to decide taking the long way around.

Gringa marched beside her now, Segen took it as a sign they were getting closer to the camp. Either that or the horse found her second wind. After a brief search on the other side of the woods, Gringa led Segen to a game trail. _Hoofprints. _They were getting closer. Her palms sweat and heart rattled—she still had no weapon aside from a kitchen knife.

_What choice is there? _Segen gritted her teeth and stepped into the muddy expanse of clear woods. At least they didn't have to fight the branches anymore, Gringa's pace picked up. The horse let out a shrill noise, or at least started to before Segen grabbed her nose without thinking. _Shut up! _

Gringa ripped from Segen's grip and eyed her uneasily, but she didn't whinny anymore. Segen pressed a finger to her lips, "_Shhh…" _

They walked for what Segen assumed was another hour, but she was tired and time was hard to judge. A brief stop for water. Segen felt guilty for drinking in front of Gringa and dumped a little into her palm for the horse to lap up. Leaves rustled above their heads, a squirrel shimmied up the base of an ancient oak. Birds chattered in a chorus of chirps and beating of wings.

The camp was a few minutes away. What was left of it, at least. Segen felt the shudder rattled up her spine. Burnt out campfire at center point, smoldering, smoke curling in the breeze. Gringa snorted, and Segen wrestled with her to get her into one of the wooden pens built into the trees. A moment of fussing with the buckles on the bridle and Gringa ripped her head from it, taking off into the pen—whinnying and trotting back and forth.

Wondering where the other horses went.

Segen felt bad for her again. Discouraged herself. She went to hang the mess of leather buckles on the fence but stopped herself—_why leave the keys? That's just asking for the car to get stolen. _Gringa was the only asset she had, and Segen would be damned to lose her now. The horse seemed to settle, taking a generous drink from the water left in the trough. Segen's own stomach growled. _You have to eat, and your horse needs to eat. _

Segen scrounged around. Overturned lawn chairs, a camper which was left open. On the counter was a pistol. The woman grabbed it—full clip. Into her holster. Now came the question of what happened. A breeze swung the door to the camper.

She could understand leaving the fire. But the entire camp unattended? Something had gone wrong. Segen ran a quick reconnaissance, looking at the tents which were pitched around the site—most left open with bedding still inside. No one was around, nor had they been in a few hours based on the condition of the fire. Segen's breath hitched, she drew the pistol.

Blood smeared down the back side of one of the tents, dried, rusty looking upon indigo nylon. A battle zone. Someone had attacked. Perhaps another gang , but that didn't explain why they'd left a gun. Segen attributed it to a zombie feeding frenzy like the one she'd seen when they'd first encountered the cavalry.

Back into the camper, she was happy to find several cans of soup inside. She packed them in her bag and went to work at finding what they'd used to sustain the horses. Hay bales underneath a tarp which ruffled with the wind.

She looked down at her bandages and thought for a moment. Messed with it without antibiotics—she could get a killer infection. Gangrene. If she left the gauze on too much longer, it was just as bad. Damned if she did, damned if she didn't. When the doctors at WHO cleaned it, she'd been halfway unconscious and had anesthetic injected into her elbow to completely numb the limb. Same protocol with the doctor at Nova Scotia, so numb that her arm tingled. On the plane with Gerry…Segen hardly remembered it. But she did remember pain and knew she hadn't been too coherent for a bit of time after.

So she could find a bottle of vodka or something like it to pour on the wound after getting herself a little drunk. Or she could just stay where she was and risk keeping the bandages on for a few more hours until she was in a safer place. Segen opted for the second option. She was scared, and she wasn't proud of that. But taking care of it was simply a task which couldn't be interrupted once it was started, and here, she couldn't guarantee a lack of interruption.

Segen moved to the hay, used the razor sticking out of one of the bales to cut the twine and grabbing as much as she could with her good arm. Gringa nickered and pawed excitedly as Segen brought the food to her, "Eat up." She muttered, reaching through the fence to pet Gringa's neck. The fact she'd done one thing right gave her a bit of satisfaction. At least Gringa was happy. In a trash can by the hay she found feed along with a sheet which showed how the rations were measured in an old coffee cup to make the food last for each horse. Segen gave Gringa a single ration, as not to overfeed her.

A few more minutes of searching turned up an old nylon bag from one of the tents which she filled with grain and stuffed in her backpack. Then, she rested on the fence and looked out, letting her mind wander. Back to Gerry and his family and to her own family back home.

She'd never met her mother. She'd had two older brothers and her father who'd never been the type to put Segen any lower than her siblings for being a female.

Segen owed everything to that upbringing—tough, no nonsense. Learned English. Joined the military, as was required. She remembered her brother—the oldest one, Amit. The day they'd been left to their own devices on a farm belonging to one of their father's friends in Afghanistan while he did business inside. Segen remembered having her head wrapped in a scarf—old enough to risk being considered a woman by those more conservative. She stood on the fence, hands gripping the splintering wood.

A fence like this one—splintered and built around the trees where cattle grazed. She also remembered Amit deciding he wanted to try and ride one of the cows in the pen and got his behind promptly handed to him by an animal which didn't want to be sat on. They'd quietly bandaged his scrapes and bruises, a silent pact between them as not to tell what they'd done.

If Mr. Sahar found out they'd bothered his precious, skinny cows—all of their asses were on the line. Segen chuckled to herself at the memory, watching Gringa chew contentedly on her pile of hay. Though, at the same time, a wave of homesickness hit her.

She missed them, all of them. Amit had died in a car accident—doing something reckless as he was prone to. That was years ago. Her other brother died in battle. Her father of cancer a few weeks before the outbreak struck, leaving Segen alone with her military job and uncertainty after that.

But that didn't matter now. Now there was the outbreak and the zombies. Now the past wasn't worth fretting over. Now she was stranded and her stomach knotted and as far as she could tell from her continued searching, there was no satellite phone around.

Either utilize the camp or keep moving. Segen, fearing stragglers from the cavalry could come back, decided to keep moving. She figured out how to untangle Gringa's bridle and get it on, and then made another risky decision.

She had a horse. Her pack was heavy and her feet ached. Why not use her asset?

_You know what…Screw it…. _Either it was a good idea or a stupid one, but Segen didn't feel well and animals typically had a good sense of direction—perhaps Gringa could still steer her to Vare and the remainder of the cavalry.

_Okay, Gringa, time to earn your keep. _With one arm she struggled to climb onto Gringa's back using the fence as a ladder, but eventually got herself into place. Gringa was patient—reminded Segen of an old woman, the wise grandmother who knew better but was too nice to say anything. Just stood kindly while the young woman sweat and struggled and pulled on her mane as she fought for her balance. Segen felt the horse's sides expand against her legs, every movement of Gringa's muscles, and the bumps of the ground underneath them.

"Okay, find your friends..." She told the horse, holding the reins and a fistful of mane in her hand. Gringa continued along, Segen hoped to heaven the horse didn't to decide to spin or run, as without a saddle it was difficult to hang on at the walk, "Good girl, good girl." The horse broke into a bouncing trot down the trail. Segen nearly rolled off her side.

She pulled back on the reins, muttering in Hebrew the same words which were in cowboy movies she'd seen as a child, wondering if they'd have any effect. Though, this was an American horse and she probably didn't speak Hebrew. Segen chuckled to herself again at the randomness of that thought. Unfortunately she hadn't watched any westerns in English as far as she could remember.

Gringa responded by letting out a shrill whinny, sides rattled against Segen's legs.

_Shut up, shut up. _She broke into a trot again and Segen gritted her teeth, pulling back while desperately trying not to slide off. Perhaps this wasn't one of her better ideas but right now the ground was far away and Segen didn't know how to get off without face planting.

A few minutes and Gringa seemed to realize her rider wasn't experienced and settled herself into an easier pace.

For a while it was fine, Segen settled into the movement of the horse. Suddenly a clatter of hooves. Segen face down on the ground and Gringa gone from underneath her. She groaned, landed on her bad arm and the pain shot all of the way across her shoulders. White flashes took up her vision, her back ached painfully from the position she'd fallen in with the heavy pack.

It took several moments for Segen to compose herself enough to sit up, feeling the warmness of her blood. Her arm bled again. _Ugh…Just what I needed…_Into a standing position, brushing the leaves off of herself and willing her legs to stop shaking from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

Segen wondered what scared Gringa or how far she'd gone. Gringa might be in the next state for all she knew—the horse moved faster than Segen ever saw her move, unfortunately leaving her rider behind. Segen followed where she thought the horse went, nursing her arm along the way.

Turning a corner, she drew her gun on instinct. Eye to eye with Rah, standing beside her own horse and holding Gringa, "I caught your horse for you." Rah said, "Don't shoot me." She tossed Segen the reins. Segen kept the gun on her.

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Thanks for reading! Please review! : )


	6. Chapter 6

Guess what: I'm back :D

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Chapter 6:

_Gerry _

When the twenty fourth hour after landing hit, and the radio of the helicopter was deemed 'untraceable' by the men manning the air tower, he got concerned. A nagging, continuous uneasiness which drove him nearly insane. Something was wrong. Government helicopters didn't drip off the grid— when they did, it was usually because they crashed and the radio was destroyed—but Thierry had confirmation this one did land.

Then, there was always the possibility of a radio malfunction, but they had the satellite phone in that case. They were under orders to stay in constant communication. _Speaking of which…_Gerry took his phone and called Thierry.

No greeting, just a question as soon as he heard the man's voice: "What's going on?"

A pause, Thierry was never good at hiding his emotion, _"…What do you mean, Gerry?"_

"Bullshit, stop playing stupid, Thierry, where are they?" Another pause, Gerry chewed his lip. This wasn't good, "Thierry."

_ "General Anderson got a call on the satellite phone a few hours ago."_ Thierry stated, Gerry waited for the reply but there was nothing. Just silence—bad sign number two.

"And…"

_"And…Well…our team didn't have the phone." _

He pressed his brow into his hand, dull headache from tiredness making him struggle to focus, "So what are you telling me, Thierry?"

Gerry knew damn well what he was being told, but he didn't want to accept it. He wanted the situation explicitly explained to him so there was no shadow of doubt. His nerves couldn't take figuring, especially not where his mind was going. Gerry knew very well what happened when there was no longer government control over war-torn areas,_ "I'm telling you that our team didn't have the phone anymore. _

"Who had it then?"

_"Some gang. They were demanding supplies for ransom of Howard Vare, the captain of the team." _ Gerry tapped his fist lightly against the wall out of nervousness, in his younger, more hot-headed days he probably would have swung into the drywall of the structure and regretted it, _"We don't negotiate with terrorists. Not even now. Unfortunately we cannot spare the supplies….If they'd accepted the team's offer for helping survivors things would have gone differently." _

Gerry found himself at a loss for words—Segen. She was a young female, the only one on the team. Immediately his mind went to her, the way she reminded him of Connie and Rachel, "What about the others?"

_"I don't know Gerry, I think they're being held captive. Let's hope that when this gang realizes we're not helping them, they can just let them go." _

"Thierry, you're full of shit." Gerry stated, "Are you listening to yourself? You know exactly what that gang will do when they don't have use for them anymore. You're telling me they're being held for ransom. If their captors don't get what they want it's not going to end well for anyone." Teeth gritted, anger rising. He felt the heat in his face from increased blood pressure.

_"I know…" _The man paused, Gerry heard muffled voices on the other end of the line. An unmistakable feeling of being left out of the communications loop, "_Listen, Gerry, we're going to see what we can do…But at this point…It's—" _He cut off, more muffled voices, it sounded as though things were getting heated on the other end. As much as Gerry hated it—he agreed with the decision. They couldn't spare the supplies nor get a reputation for being open to negotiation with the fear mongers running amuck in their broken world.

Karin poked her head around the corner, brow furrowed, eyes concerned, "_Everything alright?"_ She mouthed to Gerry.

He shook his head, and she pressed her lips together. Gerry expected her to turn and leave; instead she marched forward and took the phone from his hands. He released his grip out of shock, "Hi, Thierry, it's Karin." He wasn't sure if he wanted her to do this: in fact, she'd never done anything like this. She stayed out of his business for the most part, but something about their particular conundrum made him happy his wife decided to voice her opinion, "So they're being held captive? Okay…What are we going to do about this?"

Gerry couldn't hear Thierry on the other end, only Karin's responses, "Okay….Okay, I know, we can't rescue them…But okay…Here's what I'm trying to say….You can't just leave these poor kids who went out there to flounder because we can't finance—or rather, _you _can't finance what it would cost to fix the situation….there was no contingency for this?" Karin glanced up at Gerry, he nodded, she puffed out her cheeks, "Bye Thierry." She thrust the phone back into Gerry's hands, "He hung up, someone ordered him to. They're not going to do anything."

She turned to walk away. Gerry blinked, standing a moment, shocked at her nerve. Karin paused when she got out the door to the building, tucking herself into her coat as the cold wind hit her. Gerry followed, waiting until she stopped walking and leaned against the wall, exhaling heavily, "So…"

Neither of them wanted to say it, they just stood in silence. Karin exhaled, bringing her nails to her lips—a new nervous habit forming from their time in Nova Scotia. Gerry wondered how she was going to hold up for the next weeks, if not months, when they'd be stuck here. Just a few days and she was already getting stir crazy, "At least the kids are okay." Gerry stated, not looking at her, merely leaning on the wall beside her form.

Karin bounced her heel, arms folded across her chest, eyes distant, "Yeah." She stated, "But Segen is someone's kid too. They're all someone's babies. Guess we have to wait for them to find their own way home?"

"Yeah." Gerry said, feeling as detached as Karin looked. He didn't want to feel now. He didn't want to know the woman who'd saved his life and supported him all through WHO was out somewhere in another nightmare—perhaps worse than before.

Surviving the nightmare he should have taken for her. At least he wasn't a woman. At least they wouldn't draw it out for him. He knew just as well what those kinds of people did to girls.

"Maybe they're alright." He spoke up after several minutes, sick of the discomfort of silence, "I'm sure they'll find a way to get out of this mess." _And maybe even find a way to get the government's attention so they give you a ride home. Come on, Segen. _

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Thanks so much to my readers! I have another update almost ready to go behind this; it may be faster if I get some reviews! *winkwinknudgenudge* : )


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you for the reviews! Sorry I wasn't able to get this chapter out quite as soon as I thought, work today was kinda long XD…

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Chapter 7:

Breeze ruffled the branches around them, falling leaves fluttered upon their heads like rain. Rah held up her hands, studying Segen as if she were deciding whether or not to take her seriously. Dark eyes burned into her, dirty lips pressed into a smirk. Gringa's frightened breathing— ears gyrating on her head, looking from Rah to Segen to the other horse as if she was waiting to see how their situation panned out. Her arm hurt, she tried not to be distracted by it, but feeling her blood soaking through the bandages frightened Segen. "Fuck you." Rah muttered, turning around toward her own pinto horse, "You won't shoot me."

And she was completely right. Segen held the gun on her for another moment out of pride, but that was all. Rah was right—she had no intention to pull the trigger.

Segen withdrew, quickly, miffed at the way Rah so easily saw though her bluff, "You're hurt." Rah said, still not facing her, "Why don't you stay with me?"

"Why would I do that?" Segen asked.

"Because last night another gang attacked our camp. Walkers showed up, and a lot of people are dead." Rah replied, "Your leader is still alive but they took him."

"Who?"

"A gang." Rah replied, "a lot bigger than ours. I think most of our people are dead." Segen hadn't seen any bodies, but she didn't want to ask Rah about that, "Look, I know we didn't get off to a good start. But Gringa's in good shape, that's her name: Gringa." Segen knew that already but nodded along out of politeness, "And I'm glad that you've taken care of her. "

Segen tucked her gun into her holster and snatched Gringa's reins. Normally she would have kept the gun, but she only had one hand now so sacrifices were made, "The satellite phone. Where is it?"

"The what?" Rah asked.

"The satellite phone. Vare had it on him." Segen explained, her throat felt tight, lungs constricted. Her fine plan crumbled around her.

"Oh. The phone." Rah stated, "Some guys tried to call with it last night."

Segen swallowed, "What happened?" So they made a call, and it probably hadn't gone well.

"You're stuck out here with me, babe. To put it gently. We're in this shit together. Where are you from, your accent…"

"Israel." Segen answered, tightly again. Her mind went to the people who'd left them behind. Why had they been left? She didn't understand. _The United States doesn't negotiate with terrorists. _She thought, _these people probably qualify as terrorists. _

"That's cool." Rah stated, emotionlessly. She looked drained. Before she'd looked wild. Now she looked exhausted upon on top of that. Dirty hair, dirty face, sunken cheeks, ripped clothes and dark circles beneath her eyes. She breathed hard as if she just did something strenuous, "But…Considering our situation." She made a circular, all encompassing arm motion, "I say we ought to stick together. At least until we get as far away from that gang as we can." She started to walk, Segen went along with her, unsure where else to go. Gringa seemed to be much more content now that they were in the presence of another horse.

"Where'd they go?" Segen asked.

Rah shrugged, in front of her on the trail, "Don't know. Don't care. Somewhere north, up in the hills where there's less civilization. They're dug in there. I have him here and that's all I care about. I can't stop them. They'd steal him and kill me if I got too close. Our cavalry was a threat to them because up until last night be had control of the entire township, and they won't tolerate it. They saw the helicopter land and wanted a piece of the pie."

"How'd you get away?" Something about the story didn't fit with the fact most of the supplies were left at the camp.

"The walkers attacked from the noise. A shit ton of them." Rah paused, inhaled a shuddering breath, "Most of our guys were attacked by them, especially the handcuffed ones. I got on and rode off."

_Guess you aren't one for going down with your team then, are you? _Segen didn't say that aloud, instead asked, "Are you the only one that got away?"

Rah laughed, dryly, as if she didn't find anything funny and was almost amused at the fact Segen asked it, "Of course not. But look at me. I'm a woman. They didn't take me. Our leader and a few others took off the second they saw them coming. A few others slipped out. We all went our own ways."

Segen continued to follow her, looking to Gringa and noticing the scabby marks again. She'd nearly forgotten about the horse, "Rah." She stated, "This horse has been bitten?"

"Yeah." Rah said, "What about it? Animals don't get sick."

Segen paused, feeling her hopes deflate for the second time, "what do you mean?"

"I mean the zombies bite everything—deer, horses, cats, dogs….But how many zombie animals have you seen? I don't think animals get sick from it." Rah explained.

"We need to find that phone." Segen stated. Even if the animals didn't get sick, they still could have antibodies.

"Why?" The young woman scoffed, "They don't want to come. There is no way in hell that we're going to go into that camp, guns blazing, and steal something as valuable as a satellite phone. A _phone which is wired to the government, _at that."

Segen didn't appreciate Rah's tone but she kept walking, still feeling her blood. The trail opened up and Rah paused, allowing Segen to walk up alongside her, "Your arm is severed, isn't it?" Rah stared at the bandages.

"Yes." Segen replied, what the hell did she think?

Rah exhaled slowly, "Okay, hang in there, we'll find something for you." Segen wondered what that 'something' was, but she was too tired to ask. Her arm stung and ached. Gringa was being difficult. She zoned out until they reached an abandoned farmhouse, this one much further off the grid than the neighborhood.

"Perfect." Rah stated, "There's a fence."

A chain link fenced back yard, based on the chewed rubber toys, she assumed it was for a dog. Rah opened the gate and walked the parameter with her horse in tow, satisfied, she took off his saddle and bridle with great ease. Then, seeing Segen struggling with one hand, took off Gringa's bridle.

She ran her hand over the mare's bitten shoulder another time while Rah worked. "Come on. You don't talk much, do you?" Segen didn't say anything, "What's your name?"

"Segen." She answered, quietly.

"Rah. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry it wasn't on better terms." Rah drew a switchblade from her pocket and stuck it into the crack of the door. A few minutes later, Rah got the splintering wood open. She pressed a finger to her lips and slid inside. Segen drew her gun and followed Rah.

This house was abandoned as well, nothing to be concerned with, "Okay." Rah stated, "Sit down, let's re-wrap your arm. You have anything?" Segen nodded, pulling her first aid kit out, Rah's hand wrapped gently around her elbow and raised her arm up—using gravity to stop the bleeding.

Whoever this woman was, she'd had medical training at one point— Segen could tell based on the confidence with which she worked, "You okay?" She'd ask, Segen would nod, not saying anything, looking away, "I don't have anything to clean it with…hopefully we can get something later." The woman muttered.

"Medicine?" Segen thought of her precious antibiotics which were in the helicopter.

"The gang stole it. That was the main thing they were after. Shot three people trying to get to it." Rah stated, wrapping her arm with gauze, snuggly, "Feel okay?" Segen nodded, "Good, that makes one of us." Rah laughed at her own joke, pulling back to admire her handiwork, "How did this happen?"

Segen didn't say anything, she was sleepy and cold and wanted to curl up. She and Rah camped out on the living room floor, "Where do we go from here?" Rah asked her, leaning back against the couch.

"We find the phone." Segen held her bad arm to her chest, instinctively protecting it, "What happened to our pilot, by the way?"

"What does that get us?" Rah asked, Segen honestly didn't know, "And they took him too." She explained, "Took them both." After sitting for a little while, Rah stood up, scrounging through cabinets. She found a few more cans of food. They shared a can of soup and a can of peaches. Somehow, out of overtiredness, making each other giggle without saying much of anything.

Cool wind whistled outside, but the house was well built. Segen found herself asleep, wondering briefly is one of them should have sat up as sentry. An uncomfortable sleep on the hard floor. In the morning she woke before Rah, finding the woman curled against her side. Segen carefully moved herself from the floor and stood, looking outside. Heart leapt into her throat.

"Rah." She said, a whisper from a trembling jaw. Rah stirred. Segen nudged her with her toe.

"What's up, babe?" Rah sat up, rubbing her eyes and keeping herself wrapped in the fleece blanket they'd found in the cabinet. Segen pointed out the front window, across the field at the meandering human forms, "Shit…" Rah stated, "Where'd those come from?"

Segen didn't care much were they'd come from. All she did know was that zombies were at the end of the field, and their horses were outside. One noise and they'd be target of another feeding frenzy.

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Thanks again to my readers! Love you guys! :D


	8. Chapter 8

Hey guys! Sorry for the terribly long wait! I've been very busy with school. This is kind of a short chapter but I'm gonna actually have a lot of free time tomorrow so I might be able to get another out!

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Chapter 8:

_Segen _

Rah pressed her finger to her lips. Segen nodded, _"Got everything?" _Segen nodded again, feeling the weight of her pack on her shoulders. A few moments of silence exchanged between them, listening to each other's quiet breathing, perhaps formulating their own ideas about how to go about facing the conundrum with which they were presented, _"Horses." _Rah whispered, _"Shh, horses, the horses will freak." _

Segen remembered the stampede the zekes caused when the cavalry originally surrounded them. _Okay, bad, this is bad. _She followed Rah around the side of the house. Dewy grass soaking her boots nearly on contact. The woman went to Gringa first, practically cramming her head into the bridle. The horse let out a heavy breath of discomfort but held still and quiet, eyes rolling nervously back in her head, probably sensing the urgency. _"Hold." _Reins thrown into Segen's hand. Rah ripped the saddle off the fence and threw it onto Gringa's back. Segen's heart thumped, Gringa pranced in place and keeping her feet out from underneath the horse's took all of her focus. Rah had just given her a saddle. She wasn't sure she planned to ride again, but Rah was the one with the experience with these animals in this terrain so she didn't protest. Bareback wasn't exactly an option for her.

"Shhh, shhh." Segen breathed, trying to keep control of her mount, watching Rah fling the rein's of her horse's bridle around his head as to catch him and ease the bit between his teeth. Checkers? Was that the name of her horse? Segen heard her say it probably a dozen times but never cared enough to commit it to memory—there were more important things to worry about.

Rah snagged Gringa's reins, sweat beads on her forehead as she struggled with the two horses, "Get on." And Segen did, she used the stirrup and heaved herself onto Gringa's back. Rah grabbed a dog leash hanging on the side of the house and clipped it to Gringa's bit before hauling herself onto her own horse. Out the gate.

The horses pranced and spun. Rah pulled her reins while yanking Gringa's head practically into her lap. Segen's mare still moved quite rapidly, sideways, but she supposed the position Rah had maneuvered the horses into prevented them from completely flying like hell chased them. Sort of like when thoroughbreds were brought out to a racetrack on television—using the second horse to keep the first from running. Her own sweat ran down her face despite the cool air. So she sat, clinging to a wild animal, wondering why in hell anyone would ever want to do this for fun, praying to higher powers that Checkers didn't decide to attack Gringa or vice-versa while they nearly tipped over each other.

Brown, overgrown grass rushing by in a blur as they traversed the field. Dead wildflowers snapping as stems wrapped around the legs of nervous horses. Snap. Snap. Pop. Pop. Squeak. Hooves sliding on wetness. _Please don't fall down. _From what she'd seen before, Gringa didn't exactly seem to be the most graceful animal in her panic.

Though, it seemed both horses were a little too agitated and concerned with getting away to be picking fights with each other. Checkers flipped his head and crow-hopped, making Gringa do a similar motion and making Segen hang on for all she was worth—Rah too, suddenly clinging to her horse's mane as she desperately tried to save herself from going underneath his feet. Sweating to regain control of panicked beasts.

Gringa let out a screaming whinny, followed by the distant squealing sound zombies made when they'd gotten a whiff of dinner or breakfast or whatever time of the day it was. Rah swore, "Hang on!" The horses bolted.

* * *

_Gerry_

Another call from Thierry, Gerry practically leapt up from the table at the surprise of the ringing, "Thierry, what the hell's going on?" He hissed. Everything had been silent at the refugee camp—too silent. When arguments were about building chicken coups and where was the best place to start seeding gardens at a military expo, things had gotten too quiet. The unmistakable feeling of being cut out of the loop.

_"Listen. I know you're upset but I have something that may help." _

"Yeah, I'm a little upset." He ran off his nerves, knowing he was being a jerk but making no effort to stop himself. Thierry wasn't exactly keeping him informed for what he should have been given their situation and his requests.

_"Working on a vaccine, but it's not there yet." _

_ Well, it's been twenty-four hours, I'd imagine it'd take a little longer given all of our resources are scattered. _"Okay. Segen." He wasn't in the mood to beat around it, but considering Thierry was a professional bullshitter getting to the point took some time. _Where are they? Have you heard from them? Are there units heading into that area? Have you decided it was a good idea to make any more impromptu landings in unsecured areas because I'd really like to know what you were smoking when that was decided. _Though, to be fair, it wasn't Thierry's orders which had them land.

"_No word. But the good news is that the helicopter is valuable enough to go back for. We lost two more birds last night because of electrical storms. They were landed, but fried the circuit boards. If a recon goes out there, I'll try to find a way to get you on it, or at least in communication. But, Gerry, it's been two days. It's not likely they're anywhere near the landing site." _

"Well, if there're gangs out there, they've probably already scrapped the thing."

_"That's another reason to get out there fast. There's an advanced radar on that thing—fifty mile radius. If there are people out there, and they've gotten their hands on that, they can tap into where we're moving aircraft." _

"Depending on how good of hackers they are. Considering we know for sure that they were taken by a gang, how do we even expect to get this helicopter up and running?" Gerry finished, _so right, let's get out there and find this shit before someone else does. _He glanced to Karin and his daughters, who were alive; who he was fortunate to have alive, plain lucky that he was alive to be with them. Over his whole escapade with Segen, he'd cheated death more times than any man should, and Gerry feared that would catch up to him.

Luck didn't hold out forever, and no matter how well prepared one was, a lot of things lately were just blind luck. Surviving a plane crash, for instance—

_"Got a few mechanics going out. But like I said. This mission isn't actually happening. It's low priority, Gerry, don't get me wrong, but it is on the list now." _

"So no word?"

_"Another call with the satellite phone. Gang got a new leader or something and was trying to bargain. Again, we don't negotiate with those sorts of people—protocol." _

"Screw protocol. What did they want?"

A long pause on Thierry's end, Gerry tapped his fingers lightly against the side of the building, _"Weapons, antibiotics, vehicles, and five hundred doses of the temporary vaccine. Whole damn list of commands, they either are stockpiling or have a city full of people with the sheer amount of things they need. A vet or a doctor too, like we're just going to hand over a person as a trade—" _

"A vet?"

_"Who the hell knows. People or animals, it's still medical training." _

"Animals. "Gerry stated, "Domesticated animals." Civilization starting itself all over again. In his mind's eye he envisioned dairy farms and flocks of sheep. Though, despite what Thierry was saying, their demands weren't terribly outlandish. He almost wished they could give away some antibiotics and services, maybe even start trade. Gerry knew it was out of the question—but a nice thought. Like new states or even countries forming in the aftermath. Perhaps a glimmer of hope for survival in the long run, "Did they ask for anything doable?"

_"You're not—" _

"I'm thinking a diplomatic gesture." He explained his reasoning to Thierry, that they might one day need resources that these people had—food, for one. Especially if they were able to get farms set up a little more successfully than in Nova Scotia.

"_They want a vaccine. Full, even if you get bitten you still don't turn vaccine. We don't have one yet, and when we do, everyone _under_ our jurisdiction and the jurisdiction of remaining governments get it first. Then we'll give it out." _

So a long time, a long process. Gerry exhaled. Thierry's phone was apparently in need of a charge and that was the end of their conversation.

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So wonder how we're gonna get a vaccine….Thanks for reading! Again sorry it's short. Please review!


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